


Speed Dating

by KendraPendragon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Speed Dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 04:39:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1253185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraPendragon/pseuds/KendraPendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If someone had asked him, Mycroft would have laughed in his/her face. He and Speed Dating? Certainly not. But then Sherlock had to give his litle speech about goldfish and loneliness and now he was standing in front of the restaurant, actually going to participate in this foolish modern mating dance. And to make it even worse, he bumps into someone he knows...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speed Dating

**Author's Note:**

> My first try at Mollcroft, filling a prompt of anonymous over at tumblr, asking for a Speed Dating situation. I couldn't possibly picture Mycroft participating in something like this, so I 'classed it up' a little, so that it meets the Holmes' standard...At least I tried.

Tap, tap, tap, sounded his umbrella on the pavement as Mycroft walked towards the elegant restaurant, illuminated by golden light installments. A part of him – well, basically all of him – still couldn’t believe that he was actually going through with this. Of course, only his brother and his ridiculous little speech about ‘goldfish’ was to blame. This whole ‘how-would-you-know-if-you’re-lonely’-argument was absolutely pointless and a daft attempt to make him reconsider his life choices. Mycroft Holmes wasn’t like the other slow, ordinary people he had the misfortune to share this planet with. He didn’t need companionship like the rest of them. Just in order to proof this had he signed up for this modern mating-dance called Speed-Dating. The ‘speed’ in the title implied that at least it would be over quickly and Mycroft could go back to his old life, not without giving his brother a good earful of how he indeed did not need dull conversations with a dull woman or even worse, evenings spent with sharing a blanket, cuddling and watching telly. The mere thought made him want to vomit.  
   
Clearing his throat and straightening up, the British government entered his favorite restaurant. The interior was even more elegant than the white front, a combination of burgundy colored furniture and white walls decorated with golden paintings of modern art.   
‘It’s a new business idea’, the owner had told him two weeks ago when the man had almost begged him to come. Only the most sophisticated people would attend, he had promised and hat had finally convinced Mycroft into joining by hinting that it would also be a good opportunity to build business connections, if nothing else.  
Apart from common ways of holding such an event (of course Mycroft had done some research on the matter), the host had turned the one spacious room into several booths, shielded with heavy burgundy curtains adorned with golden embroidery from curious eyes. Apparently, the owner wanted to make this as least embarrassing as possible, Mycroft thought approvingly.  
   
Finally, he was spotted by one of the staff members and the young man hurried over to him, taking his coat and umbrella.   
“Good evening, Mr. Holmes. Unfortunately, we have already started.”  
A wave of relief washed over Mycroft. A loophole, thank the heavens.  
“Well, if that is the case…”  
He wanted to take back his coat, but the waiter shook his head.  
“Oh, no, Sir. I didn’t mean…you can still join the group, of course…”  
“That will be all, thank you Matthew”, the owner interrupted the young man as he joined them and Matthew hurried to hang up Mycroft’s coat and umbrella.  
“So glad you could make it, Mr. Holmes. I would have been crushed if our first event wouldn’t have been perfect.”  
Mycroft smiled politely.   
“Now, we’re already halfway through our first round, so unfortunately, you can only meet half of the beautiful ladies. But after the interview round we will have a short break with canapés and refreshments where it will be my pleasure to introduce you to the rest of the guests.”  
Suppressing an annoyed sigh, Mycroft nodded and followed Mr. Zakanaris to the fourth of ten booths. It was the only one with an open curtain. Due to the uneven number of men, one woman had to miss a turn.  
Mr. Zakanaris hurried through a brief introduction as Mycroft opened his night blue suit:   
“Ms. Worthington, this is Mr. Holmes. I reset the clock so you have full five minutes.”  
Mycroft nodded briefly at the man beaming up at him (which reminded him of his father way too much) and sat down at the table. He heard how the curtains were drawn behind him and gave the woman sitting in front of him a quick look-over. She was a blonde, thin woman with attractive curves. Her blue eyes stated intelligence and arrogance, mixed with signs of fatigue. The bright red lipstick should draw attention to her luscious lips. Mycroft knew everything relevant about her before she even opened her mouth.   
“My name is Melissa Worthington, my age is none of your business. I am the CFO of a high-class insurance company here in London…and I hate waiting.”  
Mycroft couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow. That arrogant smile that came so natural to him played around the corners of his mouth.   
“You’re 43. You’ve been made CFO last month and it is more than evident that you’re swamped with your new position. You didn’t get a full night’s sleep ever since and you’re so stressed that the only expectation you have from this evening is sex.”  
Melissa’s eyes widened in shock. But Mycroft wasn’t done.   
“And I wouldn’t call Luberton Insurance ‘high-class’. You’re earnings before taxes from last year hardly justify that title. “  
Before the blonde could even think of an answer, Mycroft had risen from his seat.  
“Apologies for the delay” he said coolly and pushed the curtain to the side.   
He ordered a glass of Merlot and made his way to the gents.   
What had he been thinking?  
This had been the stupidest idea he had ever had.   
   
Yet, he stayed, if only for the sake of his host and his pleading eyes. Mycroft liked this restaurant and he planned to dine here again. So he sat through the rest of the interview round and by the time it was over, he had pissed off every woman he had met.   
They were so dull it was shocking. Apparently, not even his own sophisticated circles could provide a somewhat interesting woman.  
A soft gong signaled the end of the last interview (after another accurate deduction, he had sat in silence with Ursula Rothchild, lawyer and alcoholic) and the woman bolted out of the booth, fighting back tears as she ran to the restroom.   
With another sigh, Mycroft stood up and left the booth only to find a woman crashing into him.  
“Oh, I’m sorry…oh my God, Mycroft?!”  
Mycroft forgot to breathe as utter shock rushed through his system. In all the scenarios Mycroft had played through in his head, none of them had included that he might run into someone he knew.   
For once, Mycroft was surprised. That hadn’t happened in a very long time, so he had a lot of trouble to deal with it. Of course, when it came to Mycroft Holmes, any distress was dealt with internally. There could be the biggest chaos inside his mind, on the outside none of the turmoil would show.   
Well, almost none. He couldn’t suppress the momentary widening of his eyes.   
“Miss Hooper” he said a little too loud to get his brilliant mind going again.   
If he had taken in consideration that he could meet someone he knew, it certainly wouldn’t have been her. This was nothing close to her social circles. And she didn’t fit in here, either, even though he had to admit her disguise was good. The blue, silken sheath dress had a simple cut, but emphasized her small waist and her curvy hips with a thin black belt. Her up do brought an Audrey-Hepburn-quality to her appearance that wasn’t unpleasant to look at. Or wouldn’t be unpleasant to look at, if Miss Hooper would actually stop gaping at him with her big eyes. With an inward sigh, he waited for the inevitable question.  
“What are you doing here?”  
There it was.   
“Make an educated guess”, Mycroft replied with an ironic smile.   
Her eyes widened even more and it started to make him feel uncomfortable.   
“If you could manage to get out of your state of shock, would you like me to order you a drink? Apparently, this is what this night inclines.”  
There was so much disgust in his voice and on his face that Molly snorted not very ladylike. Then she gasped and clasped a hand in front of her mouth.   
“I’m sorry”, she said or at least Mycroft thought that’s what she said with her hand still pressed on her thin lips.  
   
Unfortunately, there was no way of ignoring her, for the other people of the group were already merrily chatting among themselves. His only hope was Mr. Zakanaris, who had promised to introduce him to the rest of them. But right now, there was no sign of their host.   
With another sigh, Mycroft wrapped his long fingers around Molly’s elbow and guided her to the bar to order two glasses of Champagne for them. While he waited, he could feel her stare like two acupuncture needles stinging into his neck.   
Mycroft clenched his jaw. When the waiter finally handed him the glasses, he turned and passed one on to Sherlock’s pathologist. Her eyes were still big and brown and curious.  
“Miss Hooper, please get your face under control. It is getting quite embarrassing.”  
She blinked like if just now she realized that they were in public. Hastily, she took a huge sip from her glass and looked around. The group standing at the other end of the bar was throwing foul glances at them.  
“Great. Just my luck.”  
“Pardon me?”  
Mycroft raised an eyebrow and waited for Molly to elaborate.   
“I’m used to being shunned by my colleagues at work due to your lovely brother’s temper. But that I’m now also shunned here because of yet another Holmes, that is just unfair.”  
Mycroft smirked at that.   
“That’s not funny. Some of those men seemed quite lovely.”  
“Which one?”  
Mycroft looked over them for a second. When Molly didn’t answer, his gaze went back to her. He looked at her questioningly.   
“You’re not seriously offering your help in finding me a boyfriend, are you?”  
He looked appalled.   
“Of course not. I’m merely offering information. What you do with it is entirely up to you.”  
Molly sighed.   
“Fine, go ahead then. What about Brian, the second on the left?”  
Within three minutes, Molly was convinced that none of these men would do her any good.  
“It was a stupid idea, anyway”, she concluded and reached for the canapés. “Of course I wouldn’t fit in a posh group like that…sorry.”  
“For calling me posh? Miss Hooper, I know very well what you think of me.”  
Molly raised an eyebrow.   
“Really?”  
“Absolutely.”  
She blushed, as expected. It was not expected that her lips curled into a playful smirk after a moment or two.  
“Tell me what you think I think of you.”  
A challenge. He could see it by the mischievous glint that was in her eyes.   
Mycroft was about to reply when their host invited them back to their booths.   
“I see you’ve already found a partner to chat with, ladies. No clock needed. Just enjoy your evening. Matthew and Laura will be with you shortly to take your orders.”  
Molly sighed as she saw 9 couples disappear behind the burgundy curtains.   
“You could just go home. That’s what I’m going to do”, Mycroft suggested.   
“I’ve already paid for the evening. I’ll just sit in my booth and eat. Not the first time I eat by myself. Good night, Mycroft.”  
With a smile that couldn’t hide her disappointment, she left his side and disappeared in her booth.   
Mycroft was already turning to leave when Mr. Zakanaris was suddenly standing in front of him.  
“Now, Mr. Holmes. You won’t leave this pretty little lady to herself, will you? She is quite fond of you, I can tell.”  
He rolled his eyes.   
Yes, right!   
Molly Hooper, infatuated with his brother for what, five and a half years now?   
Fond of him?!   
Of course!  
“Come now, Mr. Holmes. Be a gentleman. Dinner with a beautiful lady. You can’t tell me there is something better waiting for you at home.”  
Mycroft gritted his teeth.   
There was Sherlock and his goldfish-comment dancing around in his mind palace again.   
With a noise that should state his annoyance, Mycroft turned around and walked to her booth. Molly looked nothing but surprised – and a little shocked – to see him. Her huge brown eyes followed him as he sat down opposite her, Mr. Zakanaris hurrying in with the menus, reciting the specials.   
Mycroft looked expectantly at Molly. His quirked eyebrow shook her out of her reverie and she hurried to place her order. Mycroft did the same.   
“And a bottle of your housewine for the table”, he added as he handed back the menu to the Greek.   
Then they were alone and an uncomfortable silence fell between them. The curtains around them were closed and there wasn’t really anything else to look at except each other.   
Molly gnawed on her bottom lip, her eyes darting around the room while her fingers played absentmindedly with her earring.   
“A gift.”  
It wasn’t a question.   
“Hm?”  
“You’re earrings. They were a gift. From your grandmother, to be precise.”  
To his surprise, Molly smiled and tilted her head.   
“Yes.”  
Well, this was unusual. He had a habit to put people off with his deductions. Most of the time, he quite liked it that way. If they weren’t offended, at least they were surprised or shocked or simply fascinated of how he did it. But not her. She just said there and smiled at him. There were no signs of anger, not even a dulling of her eyes, which occurred when people tried to shut away all their dirty little secrets in their minds so he wouldn’t see them. Molly Hooper, though, did nothing of the sort. She was so easy to read, there was nothing she hid away…   
Ah, yes, of course. Sherlock must have deduced her countless of times in the past. Even he knew about that Christmas a couple of years ago. Mrs. Hudson the old chatter box had told him shortly after the incident when he had visited Sherlock to wish him a happy new year.   
“Do you have any security blankets?” Molly asked, shaking him out of his thoughts. “Despite the umbrella, I mean.”  
Mycroft straightened in his seat.   
“My umbrella is not a security blanket”, he retorted very displeased, crinkling his nose.   
The cheerful chuckle of the pathologist had a soothing affect on him, he somewhat noticed.  
“You carry it with you all the time, even on the brightest summer day.”  
Mycroft pushed out his lower lip.  
“If anything, it’s an accessory.”  
Molly laughed and smiled at him.  
“Fine, then. Let’s call it that.”  
It fell quiet again, Mycroft kind of pouting and Molly smiling at him. The tension between them wasn’t as strong as it had been, the discomfort of being alone - for the first time since ever, Mycroft realized – almost vanished. They had never been alone, even though they had spoken a few times during Sherlock’s time underground. His brother had insisted to keep Molly updated on his status, let her know that he was still alive, so Mycroft had driven her to work a few times, briefing her on the drive. She had been relaxed as soon as he had mentioned that Sherlock was alive, but Mycroft had thought this was because Anthea had been with them every time. People didn’t tend to be relaxed in his present, due to his position and/or his abilities. He hadn’t paid much attention back then, but now Mycroft wondered why Miss Hooper wasn’t nervous or annoyed being alone with him. Again, all indications let to Sherlock. The pathologist had been faced with the talents and the curse that lay on the Holmes’ brothers; deduction and poor social skills (caused by indifference). And Sherlock was a lot worse than himself, so it only seemed logical now that Molly Hooper didn’t feel uncomfortable in his presence. Still, it managed to unsettle him.  
“So…”, Molly started, feeling the need to make conversation, “…how’s work? Everything all right with Britain?”  
Ah, this must be the awkward Hooper-humor he had heard about.   
“It can’t complain”, he replied and was astonished to find himself smiling after she grinned at him, her eyes lighting up like a warm candle. That woman’s joyful smile really was infectious.  
“What do you do all day? I mean, is there anything you can tell me? I always wondered what you do for 8 hours on the job.”  
Mycroft leaned back in his chair, looking at her curious face. It took him a second to understand that this was pure curiosity and nothing else. He definitely spent too much time dealing with politicians and agents, he mused. Having a conversation with an ordinary human being, one that didn’t seek power through information, almost never happened these days…  
“Most of it includes phone calls, business meetings and occasional trips to a foreign country. And it's 12 hours.”  
“Hm…that’s a lot of human contact for someone who doesn’t care for that. Do you like it?”  
Molly Hooper, thinking she knows him...  
“Unfortunately, it's inevitable if you want to run a country. And yes, I do like it.”  
Molly nodded.  
“What would you do if you suddenly weren't able to do this anymore.”  
“Why wouldn't I be able to do this anymore?”  
Molly shrugged.   
“I don't know. It's a hypothetical question.”  
Mycroft raised an eyebrow.  
“All right, hypothetical, why wouldn't I be able to do this anymore?”  
Molly sighed.  
“Come on, Mycroft. It's just a game. I just want to know what would be an alternative occupation for you.”  
Her eyes were sparkling with mischief and a faint smile played around her lips. She was teasing him. Go figure. No one had the guts to do this these days, with the exception of his parents and Sherlock...and Anthea, from time to time.  
Oh well, two could play this game.  
Molly was sipping at her wine when Mycroft finally replied:  
“Sex therapist.”  
Mycroft was very pleased that his answer caused her to cough and spill some wine on the tablecloth. Hastily, Molly put the glass down and grabbed her napkin, still coughing hard. The British government couldn't be more pleased when her face turned red.   
The coughing was spiced with chuckling and Molly looked up at him, shaking her head and fanning some air at her face with the napkin.   
“Unfair!” she managed to complain with a grin and lean back against the black leather seat of her booth.   
“A was thinking more of an accountant or something”, she said after she had calmed down.   
“Miss Hooper, I advice you to stop teasing me. Otherwise you will embarrass yourself some more...or swallow your tongue.”  
Molly chuckled again.   
“I'm used to be embarrassed. I've been through the tough training that is Sherlock Holmes. And you could use a little teasing.”  
“And what makes you think that?” he challenged her with a daring glance.  
Her smile was warm when she answered.  
“Because your life is way too serious and from what Sherlock had told me, there is no one to cheer you up. We all need a good laugh from time to time.”  
Mycroft stiffened in his seat. He didn't like the idea that Sherlock talked about him. It hardly could have been something nice.  
“Miss Hooper, regardless of what my brother may or may not have told you, you hardly have the right to judge my way of life.”  
Her eyes widened.  
“No! This is not what I was trying to do. At all. I'm sorry if it sounded like that. It's just...never mind.”  
Molly lost her braveness at the foul look he gave her.   
“I don't need 'cheering up', Miss Hooper. I am very satisfied with my life. I may have ridiculous parents and a brother who needs constant surveillance even at the age of 37, but that's a cross I have to bear and I do so without any help. I have a serious and demanding job and there is no room for ridiculous, petty people like Melissa Worthington or Ursula Rothchild.”  
Molly's eyes were huge as she looked at him, having shrunken in her seat by his fervid speech. Mycroft realized he was clutching his napkin and threw it onto the table. Silence fell upon those two until their food arrived.   
Without a word Molly started eating, ignoring his look. He could see her cheeks had blushed and the stiffness in her back showed her irritation. Her eyes were fixed on the plate and she twiddled with an edge of the napkin while she chewed.   
Once again, Mycroft was surprised how much it troubled him to dine like this. He sighed and put his fork down.  
“Look, I...”  
“It's fine” she hurried to say. “You're right. I have no right to judge you or the way you live. I'm sorry if I have offended you. I have that helper syndrome that sometimes gets the better of me and I butt into something that is not my business.”  
“I don't need help.”  
“I know, I know”, Molly sighed, “I didn't mean it like that. What I'm trying to say is...sometimes-I-think-you-look-lonely-which-you're-clearly-not-so-forgive-my-butting-in-that's-all.”  
Molly took a deep breath and tried to keep her cheeks from heating up.   
It was silent for almost a minute in which Sherlock's words swirled around in his head, now added with Molly's hastily spoken little speech. Did he really look lonely? How does a person look lonely, anyway? A picture of a wet puppy in a wet cardboard box with big puppy eyes popped up in his mind. Did he look like a lost puppy?   
“I'm not lonely” he said stubbornly, to the deep baritone voice in his head and to the woman sitting opposite him.   
Molly glanced up at him and he stiffened at the look in her eyes.   
“Then you're a very lucky man, Mycroft Holmes. I know loneliness. Believe me, it's not a pleasant feeling.”  
Both parents dead, small circle of friends, engagement to Thomas Abbott broken off 9 months ago, it rattled through Mycroft's head. Yes, she was lonely...  
“So you and Sherlock still didn't happen?”  
He just asked because he wanted to detract attention from his own life, he told himself.  
Molly shifted on her seat.   
“No. And it never will. That whole thing was a stupid idea...an idea that was stuck in my head for years, embarrassingly enough.”  
“Oh? And how did you finally get to this conclusion?”  
Molly cleared her throat and started fumbling with her earring again.   
“Well, it started when I realized that Tom looked like Sherlock.”  
Mycroft didn't even try to hide the surprise. Molly blushed.  
“I really didn't see it, okay? Why does no one believe me? He didn't look that much like him!”  
“Yes, he did.”  
“Oh, shut up! It really was a shock. After I realized it there was no way in hell I could have married him. So I broke it off and...well...Sherlock and I...”  
“You slept together.”   
Mycroft sounded bored, suppressing the disturbing feelings that bubbled under the surface of his conscience.   
“No! God, no...we kissed.”  
Molly's mouth twitched. An unpleasant experience, obviously. He had to admit, he was once more surprised. She had lusted after his brother for years, as she had said. And he had known that Sherlock had seen her differently ever since she so willingly offered her help to save his life and he had been jealous when he had come back and found Molly engaged to another man, having thought that she would wait for him forever. Mycroft had to admit, he wanted to know what had happened between them that made them change their minds.   
“Did Sherlock lack in technique?” Mycrof asked with a pinch of irony in his voice.   
“No, the kiss itself was fine...the five seconds it lasted. But it felt like I was kissing my brother.”  
Mycroft blinked. Molly let out a chuckle.  
“I know! After all those years he finally takes me into his arms and then...nothing! I was so sure he was what I wanted.”  
She shook her head and snorted, her eyes gazing into distance, reliving the moment. Mycroft needed a second to process this piece of information. Molly Hooper was over Sherlock.  
“Was it the same for him?”  
He asked and she nodded.  
Sherlock was over Molly. Her heart was free.   
He looked at her.  
She looked at him.  
His heart beat faster as possibilities spread before him. Finally, he accepted that he felt attracted to her. And why wouldn't he? She had a pretty face, the lovely figure of a Ballerina, was clever and gentle, honest and caring...

Mycroft quickly cleared his throat and fought down the silly thoughts that buzzed around in his head.   
He wasn't lonely!  
He didn't want companionship!

Mycroft changed the subject to safer topics and Molly happily obliged. For the rest of the dinner and some time afterward, they lightly chatted about everything and nothing. After the edgy start Mycroft found that he enjoyed himself pretty much. Molly was an intelligent woman and well-read, as it turned out. They discussed current events as well as history. Molly was a big fan of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, which turned out to be one of the many things they had in common. They shared an interest in food (she loved to bake. Oh boy...) and he finally got to know that Molly was here because she once had taken a curse in the culinary school where Mr. Zakanaris' cook taught twice a week.   
Molly was more than stunned when Mycroft admitted that the Brontë-sisters were his favorite authors. After that, they really hit it off and lost themselves in discussions about Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre and Shirley and they only stopped because Mr. Zakanaris disturbed them as he drew open the curtains and Molly and Mycroft were blinded by the light falling into the booth.   
“So sorry to disturb you, Miss Hooper, Mr. Holmes. But we would like to close up soon.”  
Mycroft checked his pocket watch: 01.30 a.m.  
“Certainly.”  
Ignoring the smug grin on the Greek's face, Mycroft drank up his wine and rose from his seat. He held out a hand to Molly, who took it and apologized to Mr. Zakanaris for keeping them so long.   
“Don't worry, Miss. Time flies by when you enjoy yourself and I am very pleased that you did.”  
Molly blushed and nodded.   
When they stepped out of the booth, they realized that they were the only ones left. The other booths had already been dismantled and the tables had been set for tomorrow...or better said, today.  
Matthew, looking really tired by now, handed them their coats and Mycroft's umbrella. The older Holmes's brother noticed Molly's smile and gave her a scolding but playful look. They said their goodbyes to their host and before they knew it, the cool London air blew into their faces.  
Molly wrapped her coat tightly around her small frame as she looked up to Mycroft.  
“Can I give you a lift?” he asked and pointed at the black car with his umbrella, which was currently pulling over.   
“Thank you.”  
They climbed inside and the car slid back into the light traffic.   
Mycroft was very aware of Molly's leg pressing against his as the drove to the dark streets of London, only illuminated by the streetlights and the headlights of the bypassing cars. It was a comfortable silence between them until Mycroft found Molly smiling at him.   
“More teasing?”  
He suspected it by the sparkling of her big doe eyes.  
“No. It's just...this turned out to be a lovely evening. Thank you for staying for dinner.”  
His lips twitched into a smile.  
“No worries. I enjoyed myself.”  
Molly's smile grew bigger, then she turned her head and looked out of the window. It gave Mycroft time to look at her, admire her pixie nose, her flushed cheeks and her silky hazelnut hair.   
A warm feeling spread in his gut. It wasn't unpleasant.   
~oOo~  
Mycroft, definitely able being a gentleman if appropriate to the situation, stepped out of the car after they had reached Molly's flat and walked her up to her door. She took the keys out of her purse and fumbled with them.   
“Would you like to come up? For a cup of tea? I also have two or three pieces left of that chocolate fudge cake.”  
The smile she gave him was nothing but inviting...so inviting it made his heart do a little jump. He cleared his throat.  
“Maybe next time. It's quite late.”  
The wind blew some loose strands of hair into her face. Her eyes sparkled and her smile became soft and warm and Mycroft wasn't sure if he liked the way it made him feel.  
“There will be a next time?”  
There was a flutter of nervousness in his belly. He raised his head. The invitation was out, he couldn't take it back without looking like a fool.  
“I don't like dining on my own and you said you're feeling lonely. Dining together is a logical option to avoid this.”  
She tilted her head and her smile became crooked. She was able to mock him with one look.  
He rolled his eyes.  
“Would you like to dine with me again or not?” he asked impatiently.   
“It depends” she said after a second and Mycroft felt a wave of disappointment wash over him.  
“On what?” he asked, his voice sounded hoarse. Damn his voice!  
He had really no idea what was going on in her mind...until her eyes lowered to his lips. As his brain was still commanding his system to panic, Molly curled her fingers into the collar of his coat and pulled him down.   
His eyes widened as it dawned on him that she really was going through with this.  
Her lips landed on his and his eyes widened some more.  
Then he felt how warm and soft her lips were and how hot the carbon dioxide felt as it hit his cold cheek and his heart began to drum in his chest. To focus more on that splendid feeling of Molly Hooper's nibbling lips, he closed his eyes and before he knew it, the umbrella slipped out of his hand and landed on the pavement with a complaining thud. Mycroft couldn't care less. Instead, he wound his arms around the small person that was Molly Hooper and pulled her flush against him.   
It had been a very long time since he had felt a woman's body. He had deleted how marvelous it felt.   
He had also forgotten how much he enjoyed kissing. But Molly helped him remember by pressing her lips onto his and sucking his lower lip into her mouth. A low moan fell from his lips and Mycroft couldn't tell who was more shocked about this.   
They parted, both being out of breath but still in each others arms. Molly's eyes were glazed over, but her smile was bright.   
“Not brotherly at all” she whispered and giggled and Mycroft swallowed hard. That giggle made him feel all warm and fluffy inside.  
“I smeared lipstick on you”, she grinned and was about to wipe it off his lips when he caught her hand in mid-air.  
“We're not finished”, Mycroft whispered and sealed her lips with his.   
Now it was her turn to hum as he dominated the kiss, opening her mouth and sneaking his tongue inside. She met it without hesitation and melted against each other as their kiss became more and more sensual.  
Both of them enjoyed that kiss way too much and they needed a very long while to remember that they were standing in the street at 2 a.m.   
Finally, they separated, their lips making a lovely little sound.  
Mycroft looked down at the woman in his arms, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen. Her eyes glistened with joy and something else that caused a shiver to run up and down his spine. He licked his lips, tasting solely of Miss Hooper – no, he couldn't possibly call her that anymore...Molly... - and leaned back, letting go of her.   
He fought with himself not to pull her back a second later, reminding himself that now was not the time to indulge in the temptation that she represented. There had to be preparations. He had to think about this. She wasn't just a stranger. She was a part of his brother's life. His friend. It wasn't as simple as his body tried to make him believe.   
“Goodnight...Molly.”  
Her smile was lovely. He could get used to that smile.  
“Goodnight, Mycroft. Call me about that dinner, okay?”  
He nodded briefly, a small smile spreading on his lips. The thought of spending another evening with her was more than pleasant.   
Standing up on her tiptoes, Molly pressed another chaste kiss to the corner of his lips, beamed up at him and then turned to unlock her door.  
After she let herself in, she turned around and grinned.  
“You should take care of that” she giggled and pointed at her mouth.   
Mycroft chuckled and nodded, reaching for the handkerchief in his coat pocket.   
He wiped her lipstick off of his lips as she slowly closed the door, looking at him until it clicked shut.   
~oOo~  
While he looked out of the window of the black Mercedes, Mycroft let the events of tonight pass through his mind, his smile getting brighter and brighter.   
Molly Hooper...  
Who would have thought?


End file.
